The Dangers of Pink Cocktails at Christmas
by ConstantComment
Summary: An unsuspecting Potter is subjected to Draco on drugs. 11/25 of my 25 Days of Fanfic! Drabble features unestablished relationship, EWE, accidental and humorous drug use.


When Draco had followed Harry Potter into the potions room in the Granger-Weasley household, he'd been feeling quite fine actually-really, stupendously fine, in fact-so he hadn't understood why Potter was so simultaneously exasperated and worried when he'd consumed the pink drink in the pink cocktail glass with the pink umbrella in it, which had been so graciously placed in front of him as he'd sat down in Victor Krum's unoccupied chair at the Christmas party to which he'd been invited.

"That drink was rather delicious," Draco commented, albeit slurringly, to Potter, who was rummaging through cabinets and rattling phial-filled shelves as he held on tightly to Draco's wrist. "What are you doing, Potter? I was having a nice time and you had to ruin it by breaking my wrist and tossing me into this cupboard of a potions labrary-laborer-labort... lab."

Potter just tugged him over to a large door, muttering, "Hush, Malfoy."

"Don't you tell me to hush!" Draco said, gesturing as emphatically as his words were garbled. He tugged his arm back, receiving a tug in response, which really shouldn't have continued but they _were _who they were.

Potter opened the door and tugged once more, and Draco who was feeling increasingly euphoric and therefore wildly unprepared for any sort of sharp movement, toppled into Potter and sent them sprawling into what was not another room but an _actual_ cupboard. And Draco'd thought the lab was small!

Just as Potter got up, the door to the cupboard slammed shut, leaving them in utter darkness.

"Shit," Potter said.

Draco giggled, stretching out-as much as one could in this cupboard of a cupboard-and touched his fingertips to the wooden trim along the bottom of the walls. "I can't see," he said.

"You've been drugged, Malfoy," Potter replied. Although it derailed a bit from the trajectory of their conversation-or at least, Draco's conversation.

Draco decided to ignore him, continuing, "But I can _touch_ things! Wait, Potter, feel the wall-feel the wall!" He scrambled up on his knees and reached out to where he thought Potter might be located. He ended up swatting the man's knees and then grabbing onto his trousers.

"Malfoy-I don't need to-stop, you need to calm down!"

Draco yanked him by his knees, unintentionally throwing the man's legs out from under him and sending them sprawling, yet again, on the cramped floor of the potions cupboard.

"Hell-o," Draco mumbled into Potter's soft, fuzzy, warm, _soft_ pullover. He ran his hands over it, gasping in surprise. "You're very soft."

"Oh my God," Potter muttered, moving slightly and trying-failing-to disentangle their limbs. "I'm going to kill Ron. He wanted to prank Krum, and look where it got me."

"Is this cashmere?" Draco asked, petting Potter's tummy and resting his head on the man's chest.

"Yes, it's cashmere. Listen, Draco-"

"You're fuzzy and warm and I want to cuddle you like..." Draco trailed off, fingers slipping to the edge of the pullover near Potter's waistband.

"Like an octopus?" Potter supplied oh so helpfully as Draco clung tightly to him.

"Like a teddy bear-a teddy bear octopus." Draco hummed, climbing on top of Potter. "I wish I could see you better."

Potter's fingers squeezed Draco's thighs tightly, eliciting a bit of a mewl from the man atop him. "Malfoy, you're..."

"I always thought you were stupidly beautiful," Draco continued, unaware.

The fingers tightened even more, if that was possible.

Draco pondered, "Or was it beautifully stupid?"

"What are you talking about?" Potter asked, leaning up on his elbows. Draco imagined he had one of those dopey frowns on his face.

"I'm talking about your elfin cheekbones, of course, combined with the typical Gryffindor-"

"Wait, Draco. What are you saying? You fancy me?" He grabbed Draco's wrist again, this time gentler, Quidditch-rough fingers making his skin tingle. Or was it the drink-Potter was saying-that was making his skin tingle?

Draco leaned down and bumped his nose to Potter's, snickering and grinning. "You smell like licorice," Draco observed. And then he licked Potter's nose.

He was promptly tossed to the floor, but his hand remained in Potter's loose grasp. "Sorry," Potter grumbled.

Draco rolled onto his back and blinked. "This floor is so... flat."

"Right. We'll continue this conversation later when you're not out of your mind on that Elixir to Induce Euphoria."

"I want to snog you," Draco added.

Potter spluttered, and was thus taken off-guard when Draco pulled Potter on top of him. "I suppose... to pass the time..." Potter offered tentatively.

Draco smiled, grabbing hanks of Potter's rat's nest with not a little enthusiasm. "Do you taste like licorice, too?"

"Mmph," Harry replied, increasingly euphoric as well.


End file.
